Changing Dark History
by GazelleBlues
Summary: As Harry aged, he realized there was nothing for him in this life. From that moment he began to research, once he had found what he was looking for he attempted the rite to send himself back in time. Unfortunately for Harry there was a miscalculation sending him even further back than he meant to go. Deciding to make the best of it, Harry starts an adventure to fix his future.
1. chapter 1

_A/N: I am very sorry for a sudden hiatus, and then the only thing I do upon return is edit. However, I do hope that it makes the story as a whole better when it is finally finished. Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it, aside from this fanfiction and any I may write in the future. I make no money or gain in any way aside from satisfaction of writing from this work. I hope you all are well, and my sincerest apologies._

Harry stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of his small flat. The man stared into his own eyes, searching for something that was not there. The once shining eyes, alight with humor and hope were now dark, a testament to the things he had witnessed. That happiness was long gone. The man dropped his eyes from his face and took in the rest of his appearance. He had become a hardened warrior, and he dressed like it. his lean body was shrouded in dark clothes. his cloak held the only color in the outfit: a green trim around it, the same dark shade as his eyes. His wand was hidden in a holster on his wrist, ready to be brought out in less than a moment's notice. long gone were the days he would fumble for his wand in a panic as people died. Suddenly, the image of Alastor Moody flashed through Harry's mind; he resisted the urge to let out a grim chuckle. He was probably just as paranoid as that old man, if not more so, truth be told.

He made his way to the bedroom, marginally larger than the one he had spent time in as he grew up. The Dursleys… a sigh escaped him as the man began to pack all of his important belongings into an expensive-looking trunk. He had bought it to hold all of his belongings and money. He was fairly confident in his calculations, but the weary man did not trust things to happen the way they had last time. That is why Harry wanted to go back, after all. Eventually, Harry finished packing up his things into the multi-compartment trunk. One for money, one for books, one for potions. (unbreakable glass, he wasn't sure he trusted that either.) He did not require one for clothes, as he was going to be a different size when he arrived at his destination.

As the raven haired man finished that work, he took a look around the small flat he had spent the last several years living in. The blank, empty walls, minimalist design. Harry would be glad to never see this place again. Grasping the handle of the trunk, he apparated. That was the last time he would see that place. A small tinge of satisfaction went through him at the thought as he felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a tube, from one place to another. When he landed, he set the trunk down, pulled a dagger out of his cloak, and removed said cloak, laying it across the trunk. When he had finished putting everything aside, he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt and began. Harry squatted on the ground and began carving runes into the cold, hard, ground. The process took well over two hours, and when he was done, he was in the center of a large web of runes; spiraling together, the smallest forming medium sized runes that come together to form larger runes that create the massive rune needed for the rite.

This singular rune was almost a perfect circle, Harry still squatting in the middle. Ever so carefully, he stood. He did not dare use his magic right now. This was risky enough, he was not entirely sure it would work the way it should. But it was his best bet. He had spent years planning, calculating, researching. He lifted the trunk, and carefully set it down where he had been squatting. He pulled a second dagger out of the cloak, and sliced his palm with it. He let his blood drip along the elaborate lines crossing each other and swirling into intricate designs. When there is a line of blood all around the circle, he staunched the blood flow with a handkerchief. He stepped carefully over the runes, and sat on the trunk. He pulled out his wand, touched the tip of it to the ground, and began chanting. As he chanted, Harry became excited. He was about to go back! He be able to see everyone again! A spark of happiness almost brought a smile to his face, so unused to the gesture. Suddenly, he remembered his words, and he forced himself to slow his thoughts and continue chanting without incident.

Abruptly, there was a harsh wind blowing, the runes and blood were gone, as if he had not spent all that time carving runes into the solid ground, and spilled his own blood on it. A light seemed to shine from within Harry, and by the time it was over, he was gone, along with his trunk. However, he hadn't gone back to where he thought...


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Not the owner of Harry Potter, his world, or any associated characters. I gain nothing from this, save enjoyment of writing and exploring._

 _A/N: Please feel free to review, again, very sorry for any inconvenience, and feel free to PM me if you have suggestions or questions, I suppose what he meant to do may be revealed later in the story. For now, it remains a mystery._

Chapter one: Arrival

Harry fell off of his trunk with a soft sounding thud, though it definitely did not feel soft to his bony behind. He quickly became aware of many things at once. The slight pain from falling off the trunk, the boy did not mind much; however, the slight throbbing of his entire body… was an entirely different story. The fact that his clothes were too big and there was noise. If it had worked like it was supposed to, there would not be noise. Especially not distant sounds of people bustling around a nearby street. At that thought, the now eleven year old began to panic. Dimly he noticed his surroundings, it seemed he had landed in a seldom- if ever- traversed part of Knockturn alley. The notion that his clothes were swallowing him whole seemed to calm him somewhat. At least that part of the rite had worked. Harry sat there for a bit, forcing himself to calm down and think rationally.

It seemed he had gone to the wrong time, but he was not entirely sure when he had gone back to. He needed a name. He knew he could not go around claiming to be a Potter, and what would happen when he was born? Would anyone realize? As many thoughts ran through his head like a rampage, the raven haired boy sat back on his trunk.

When he finally moved, Harry looked around, making sure there was no witness to his next move. After all, basically any magic was advanced magic for an eleven year old, not yet in school. He pulled out his wand, and shrunk his clothes to fit properly. The child dropped his cloak into his trunk shrunk his before he resized the trunk to fit in his pocket. The next charm he used was the featherlight charm so he would not have to carry the weight around. The wild haired youth dropped the small trunk into his pocket.

Harry quietly stepped around the corner to see where he had landed. He saw a constant stream of people walking quickly, eager to get the necessary errands done. The names on the shops sounded familiar, but not places he would go regularly, if at all. Nowhere he needed to be right now, certainly. He slipped through the crowd, making his way toward Diagon alley. The shrimp of a child found Gringotts. He smiled innocently at the Goblins guarding the doors and stepped through, remembering dimly the first time he had done so. The awe he had felt. He got in line for a teller, and waited as patiently as the average eleven year old should. That is, not patiently at all. He shifted around anxiously, looking around the building at all of the people. Nobody he would know. The general style of robes said he had definitely gone back farther than he had meant to.

Harry noticed a wizard in the line next to him reading a newspaper, and decided to try to get the man to give it to him. He did need to know what year it was and what has been happening, after all. Before attempting anything, though, he watched the man for a moment. Tall, relatively thin. Dark hair, black, almost to his shoulders, well groomed. Cold, silver-grey eyes. Ruch garments. He simply screamed Black, and wealth. No matter, that would only make this encounter more entertaining. He pasted an innocent smile on his face before tapping the man's arm. "Sir, may I read that newspaper?" he asked as politely as he knew how. The man looked at him a moment, before looking back to the paper, ignoring his request. "Sir, please, may I borrow your paper? I'll give it back when I am done with it if you want!" He said enthusiastically, hoping that would gain the attention of the older man. Again, his attempt was ignored. Harry decided a different approach altogether. Authority. "Sir! I would be grateful if you would allow me to borrow your paper. Now."

Finally, the man looked at him. It felt like the tall man was staring into his soul, reading his thoughts. Maybe he was. "And why should I follow the authority of a puny child like you?" he asked. His face was emotionless, but his voice belied curiosity. All of this caught Harry off guard, as he had been expecting to be reprimanded, or ignored again. He was unsure of how to respond, but as they stood there, Harry lifted his chin.

"Because it is of no inconvenience to you, and as an adult, you should be responsible in sharing knowledge with children, such as myself." As he spoke, he realized that sounded a bit more mature than the average eleven year old, as he was planning on pretending to be. He berated himself a bit before shrugging it off.

It was finally his turn at the teller. Abruptly, he forgot what he has planned on saying. "Um, sir, I'm not really sure…" He said to the goblin, his childish voice working toward his attempt at sounding clueless and a bit nervous.

The goblin looked him over carefully before glaring. Or maybe that was a smile? It was hard to tell, per usual. It seemed it was easier to distinguish, the better you knew the particular goblin. "Sharpclaw!" Moments later, another goblin walked over. The goblins spoke in their native tongue for a few moments before they simultaneously turned to the child.

"Come with me, young sir." As the pair walked off, Harry felt the eyes of the tall man- he was convinced, but uncertain if he really was a Black- burning into his back. They walked in silence for a while in a part of Gringotts that Harry had never been before. It looked similar to the portion with the accountant and manager offices, but they had gone through a different door and were currently walking in the opposite direction.

The goblin stopped in front of a seemingly random door, making Harry almost bump into him. The door swung open, allowing Sharpclaw to step into the room and sit behind the desk; this left Harry standing indecisively, until the goblin gestured for him to enter and sit.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own none of J K Rowling's story, plot, or characters. There is no money being made with this story, it is purely for enjoyment of you, the reader, and myself, the writer.

Chapter Two: The Goblins

He stepped into the office, uncertainty lightening his feet; his footsteps were silent. Harry sat on the chair Sharpclaw had gestured to, and watched the goblin in silence. He knew the Potters were a wealthy family, and he trusted that the goblins would not risk losing such a client. Despite that, the boy, too small for his physical age, watched the goblin with an expression that seemed to be innocent curiosity.

Sharpclaw soon began talking, and Harry listened intently. "I am sure you are aware, Mr. Potter, that there are more to things than that which meets the eye? I think you know what I am talking about." Harry was not sure, in all actuality. There was more to everything than what meets the eye, he had learned that the hard way. However, he nodded his head, and hoped he would figure out what Sharpclaw was speaking of as they continued their conversation.

The short goblin made that face again, the one where Harry could not tell if he was smiling or glaring. The messy haired boy hoped Sharpclaw was smiling; he did not wish to encounter an angry goblin, having already had that displeasure. "If you are aware of that, then I hope you would not be opposed to a few necessary precautions?"

Harry wore a strange expression on his face, giving insight to his reluctance. Before he came here, he had shown only what he wanted people to see, keeping tight control of his features. He knew he could use it in his favor, when he was dealing with people who were unaware of his real age. "Would you mind telling me what sort of precautions, sir?" he asked respectfully. Sharpclaw looked down at him, and seemed to mentally nod in approval. He proceeded to pull out a bowl and a small stack of papers from his desk.

"I do believe, that a form of blood test, and a few questions would be in order. I am aware of your… predicament, but this is more about your money than anything. We value our customers, and the safety of their possessions and self."

The emerald eyed youth weighed his options carefully. He thought about the Potters that were alive at this point in time, his grandparents, and very possibly his father.

"Sir, would you mind telling me the date, and what the blood test will reveal?" He did not wish to make a fool of himself as he had so many times before.

"The date is July 31, 1963, Mr. Potter, and the test will will reveal many things. It will reveal your age, family, assets, and magical influences, as well as your magical prowess, and projected growth of it in the future. Just a standard blood test, I assure you."

It was his birthday, then. Turning eleven for the second time. The young Potter was reluctant, but agreed to the test. Worry churned in his stomach. Worry that the information that could be put on file would be leaked, that there would be information that he does not currently know that could change things. Harry did not want to let his blood be spilled, who knows how many different ways someone could use his blood for any number of different things? He knew it to be necessary, but he did not enjoy the thought of it. Harry slowly nodded his head, hair flopping every which way over his small head.

"I consent to the test, and the questions. However, I want an oath that the information will never be shared with the public, and any family members living will not be contacted until I ask for them to be." Sharpclaw inclined his head in agreement, that odd expression that could be a smile or snarl once more on his face.

"If you wish it, so will it be." He said before he pulled out an odd contraption. It seemed to have an indention in the shape of a Goblin's hand, and a human hand opposite; it looked to be made of clay. Harry could feel the magic flowing from it, and drew away from it out of reflex. Sharpclaw noticed his client's surprise, and kindly explained. "Goblins do not require an oath holder, we use these. They have the function of binding us to our word." He put his hand on the side that holds the goblin hand, the palm smaller, the fingers long and thin. His other hand gestured for Harry to put his own hand in the indention, the clay around it seeming to shrink so the print was the right size.

"I swear on the magic of myself, the honor of my people, and the flowing gold of business, that the information revealed shall not be shared with the public, no body will notify any person of your presence unless instructed, or in extreme and unavoidable situations. Sic fiat semper" The goblin said in a solemn tone. Harry mentally translated the last sentence: so mote it be. He dimly recalled someone, most probably Hermione, saying something about Latin being an important language to the Wizarding World, for far more than just the spells.

"Sic fiat semper." Harry's childish voice echoed the Latin phrase, Giving the magic permission to bind the words to him, as he was the one the oath was intended for. It would be entirely ineffective, otherwise.

His hand fell away from the device as he felt a tingling he had barely noticed suddenly stop. He sat with grim determination, his face hard. A look that did not belong on a child's face. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Harry held his wrist over the bowl, and broke the scab that lay across his wrist from the rite to bring him to this time. He did not acknowledge the pain or the slight lightheaded feeling, just as he had yet to truly acknowledge that his entire body was aching. It could wait until he was alone. When the bowl was half full, Sharpclaw pulled his hand away and healed it. As he dropped Harry's hand, he picked up the bowl and set it on top of the small stack of papers. It seemed that there was a magic in the parchment that could draw the blood through the bottom of the bowl, and process information from it. Slowly, minutes ticked by.

One… Harry watched as the deep crimson of the blood slowly drained, and red writing began to appear in a tidy scrawl, uniform letters covering the page.

Two… the first page had long ago been covered in writing, and his blood- his own blood, valuable, life giving, precious blood- seeped further into the stack of papers. He wondered at the magic, keeping it from smearing against the back of the paper, or running together.

Three… this was starting to get boring, and he had to resist the urge to sigh as he sat perfectly still. Like a statue, almost unnaturally so. As the third minute was up, the bowl finally emptied of his blood completely, signalling that the tests was completed, and the results ready for inspection.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I own nothing in the world of Harry Potter, and make no money for my efforts_

 _A/N: Again, I sincerely apologize for my long and unannounced absence, and while updates likely are not going to be scheduled as I had originally planned, I do intend to update regularly. Thank you for reading, and please review! Thanks to those who already have, it means the world. Reminder: I did go back and edit/revise the previous chapters, so there is a bit more details, a few critical, so please go check that out, as well. Lastly, the chapters should get longer when things slow down a little bit in the story, I believe._

Chapter three: results

Gently, the goblin's long fingers wrapped around the bowl, setting the object aside before picking up the papers. Harry thought in that moment, that Sharpclaw was likely doing this on purpose, to build up suspense, and he did not appreciate it. It was working all too well, after all. Hard green eyes stared at the goblin before him, waiting silently. Forcing his fingers not to tap anxiously, or his breaths to accelerate. A few long moments later, and the Goblin handed over the parchments, an indistinguishable expression on his face. Harry blinked in confusion before peering down at the results. Despite the reluctance, he was eager to know what it said. After all, he had never had this test done before, being more focused on

keeping people alive. The red writing that he knew to be his own precious blood revealed a bit more than he wanted to know, after all.

Harry James Potter

Age: 38

Physical age: 11

Birthdate: July 31, 1980

Mother: Lily Evans (born: 1960)

Father: James Potter (born: 1960)

Godfather: Sirius Black (born: 1959)

Godmother: Alice Longbottom

Member of Houses:

Potter (birth)

Black (birth)

Peverell (birth)

Fleamont (birth)

Gaunt (birth/conquest)

Sayre (birth)

Slytherin (right of conquest)

Head of House(s):

Sayre

Slytherin

Possible Heriships:

Potter

Black

Fleamont

Peverell

Gaunt

Abilities:

Parseltongue

Occlumency

Legilimency

Magical resistance

Animagus

Apparation

Magical Core:

Heath- Excellent

Strength- Platinum

Status- Moderately depleted

The boy sat back and stared at the parchments for a moment, before pulling his gaze up to look at the only other occupant of the room. He was almost scared to look at the rest of the papers, not knowing what else they could possibly say. A family tree, perhaps? "What… does this mean, exactly? Platinum? That is a lot more families than I knew about… I am actually related to the Gaunts, this says?" He spoke, voice filled with disgust at the mention of the Gaunt family. Carefully, he looked at the other papers to see that his guess was right. Harry set the paper down on the desk before him, a finger tracing up the lines gently as he listened.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. This is quite a shock, in fact. Rarely is there a wizard with a magical core of platinum strength. It is believed that Merlin himself was of this calibre, though there is no solid proof. However, there are some drawbacks to your power. Be careful with everything you do, think, and say, Mr. Potter." Harry nodded as he listened, only pausing his inspection of his family tree at the last couple sentences.

He blinked up at Sharpclaw with a startled expression before nodding. Unwilling to ask, he simply went back to looking at his newfound family. He did not remember having anyone he truly considered family since… Sirius….

A thought struck him, and the child sat up straighter, smiling. Sirius was alive! And his Dad, and Mum! Remus, and he was not even a werewolf yet! _You're just a kid, what could you do…_ Harry frowned slightly. "Sharpclaw, may I see my assets for the Sayre and Slytherin Vaults, please?" The goblin nodded, turning from his desk to face a bookshelf. Seemingly mostly empty, the bookcase was not overly impressive. However, what looked like a muggle keyboard seemed to reveal itself, and after a moment of typing, a pair of books sat before Sharpclaw on the bookshelf.

He picked them up, dropping the leatherbound volumes before Harry on the desk, partially covering the family tree he had still been looking at. Harry picked up the Sayre book first, the name elegantly inscribed across the front. He flipped through previous transactions- fascinating historical records, but currently entirely unimportant. He got to the most recent transactions, several years old. By several, he means almost two centuries, give or take; the exception was the regular payments of a rented out property. How had he ended up head of this house? He looked back at the family trees, and noted that the only other living relative in this family was Tom Riddle, as well as with the Gaunts and Slytherin. Damn, how? He thought, continuing on. His eyes scanned the pages, noting things. The vaults were had a small bit of money, mostly having some heirlooms and trinkets. Two properties were recorded. The Sayre Citadel, it seemed at once guarded some long abandoned village, destroyed by some long forgotten dark wizard. It seemed unlikely that there was anything there anymore, and it was entirely possible the wards had fallen over time and the place discovered. The other a vacation home in France, that was rented out regularly to a few select families. Slightly exasperated, he set the book down and picked up the one titled 'Slytherin,' hoping he would have more luck.

He flipped through this one, noting that there was significantly less transactions, and stopped even farther back, again with the exception of a rented out property. It seemed that the Gaunts had somehow lost the ability to get into these vaults, and it had been left alone. Gold, he was not particularly worried about, though he was pleased to note that there was a small fortune in there- a total of approximately fifteen thousand galleons, a sizable amount. There were four properties listed, including Hogwarts (there was a percentage of 25% beside it, to show that he owned only that much of it) as well as a small mansion in the countryside of Ireland, a flat in Hogsmeade- rented out, it said, and he wondered who lives there. And finally, a simple cottage in a… surprisingly muggle area, he noted, and wondered if the wards had failed on the place, leaving it to ruin, or had persevered, and preserved.

Harry set the two books down with a thoughtful expression before deciding to worry about that later. He allowed a faint smirk to grace his features. "Any chance you could help me with some things fairly unrelated to money and assets, Sharpclaw? Maybe… a glamour, or a false identity? I'll also need to put the money I brought with me into the Gaunt vault for the time being, once I am done spending a sizeable amount on necessities."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I have not the talent or the imagination to come up with a world so great as this one, and do not gain anything for my efforts.

A/N:I give up on attempting to claim a regular update schedule, life seems to think it isn't a good idea for me. I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to review if so inclined, they are so fun to read.

Paulaa90, As will probably be explained later in the story with more depth, he planned to go back to the time he was supposed to be eleven, and change things from there. He had everything he needed to do so, and an entire plan mapped out. Because he went back further does not mean that all of those means are invalid. As for your earlier observation that his not paying attention possibly being a factor to why he went back further, you are absolutely correct.

To all of you, thank you for your support and patience.

Chapter four: Clean Slate

A grin slid across Sharpclaw's face- and that was exactly what Harry had come to recognize it as. The boy in the room became somewhat lost in thought, mind racing at the thought of everything he needed to do. He opened his mouth to speak once more; however, he was beaten to it by the goblin. "Indeed, and we can also get you a Hogwarts letter with that identity. With some stipulations, of course. How do you wish for people to see you, in this time, and what shall your new identity be?"

He thought before speaking, a careful consideration. This was to be who he was forever now, after all. A good pureblood name, possibly? But then people would wish to know who his family was… "Caelum Harry Miller… a halfblood, grew up in an orphanage? Will I need to go to Knockturn to get all of the documents? I wish to keep as close to this appearance as possible, only changing it enough to not be recognizable or mistook as a Potter, or some other pureblood families, please."

Sharpclaw frowned as the beady goblin eyes stared Harry down intently. "That, of course, may be difficult- but attainable, certainly. Wait here, if you will." With that, and no further explanation, the goblin stood and exited. Moments passed, and Harry waited patiently for his return. However, he could not help but be curious about the room in which he now found himself alone, or the goblin who worked in it, and what seemed to be in store. Yes, what had he gotten himself into, he wondered? As the man looked around the office, he noted the marble walls, devoid of memorabilia or decor of any sort, and the desk the same, only containing practical things, to be of use. Quills, ink pots, spare parchment, and various things neatly stacked to the side. Oh, he would need a place to live while away from Hogwarts, people probably would not want to rent to a lone child, after all.

Sharpclaw re-entered, carrying a small stack of papers and some small unidentifiable object. A small smack resounded as he dropped the papers on the desk, and then silence as he fiddled with the instrument before setting it before Harry, who finally got to inspect it. It was a wooden carving, nearly like a small carved canoe; except, where it would have been hollowed out, there was a series of dials, almost like you would find on the side of a watch. "This is an extremely expensive object, Mr. Potter. Most do not know it exists." His elongated knobby finger pointed to the dials in the hollow as he spoke. "These will each alter a different characteristic, and once you have set them to your liking, it is to be tuned to your magic. So long as you keep it nearby and unbroken, you will keep the characteristics you have set on the device, and may remove them at will, for short periods of time. If it breaks, you lose the glamour permanently. It is imbued with house elf and goblin magic, and is generally unnoticeable by wizard spells. You will not be revealed by a human, nor any unwilling elf or goblin.

"How do you… know what characteristic you're turning it to?" Harry asked, not seeing a way to distinguish. He laughed nervously, picking up the object to see if he could find an answer. Sharpclaw seemed amused, a rough chuckle escaping briefly with his short response:

"Magic." Raven hair flopped out of the emerald eyes, wizened much beyond the apparent eleven years he seemed as Harry lifted his head to stare at the one standing before him, awaiting explanation. "Imagine what you wish to change. Imagine what you look like with those changes, and push each of the dials while keeping that in mind. And then, to fill it with your magic, and to bind it, it will need a little bit of your blood in the hollow. Harry nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he focused on the changes he wished to make. Straighten and smooth out his hair, deep green eyes lightening to a more blue-green, and rounding the shape of his almond eyes just slightly. The small button nose became a small bit more pointed, and cheekbones lowered only slightly, enough to make his cheeks take on a sligtly more rounded look- just enough to change his face shape, though still fairly aristocratic, and as some thought, 'pureblood' looking. Sad, when the community is so inbred that select few feel they can distinguish purebloods as a whole by their facial features. He snorted slightly, continuing on to change his skin tone from the light natural tan his body currently had to a slightly darker one that would not fade with time out of the sun. The scar on his forehead would dissappear, as well as the ones still distinctly visible, though some of the fainter ones stayed. What kind of child wouldn't have a few scars, after all? He kept these things in his mind as opened his eyes and pulled out his wand, gently poking each knob in turn, before wordlessly breaking open the scab on his palm, and coating the inside of the little wood carving before healing himself completely as the blood absorbed into the wood. Expectant eyes, now more blue than green, looked up at Sharpclaw, awaiting his response. "Subtle changes do indeed make a big difference. Well done, Mr. Miller." The stack of papers were pushed across the desk for Harry to see, flicking through them after briefly sticking his glamour device in his pocket. A birth certificate, vaccination records, and any other document one might need sat before him, entirely official and innocent looking. And at the bottom, a Hogwarts letter, all with the name Caelum Harry Miller. "Of course, registered with the Ministry and Hogwarts records, with minimal attention. You're all set, Mr. Miller. The bill will be owled to you, and I have been assigned to your case and am officially your accountant. Will you be needing anything else, sir?"

Harry gave Sharpclaw a tired smile, bowing his head. "Not at this time, thank you. Once I get the things I need and find a place to stay, I will be back to visit my vaults." He gathered his papers and put pulled his trunk from his pocket, unshrinking it momentarily to put the documents away, and quickly reshrunk it, placing it in his pocket once more. He bowed once more and murmured a quiet "Good day to you," before stepping out of the office, and making his way out of the building. He stepped out of the way of the man he had encountered earlier with hardly a thought as to why he would still be there, and made his way to the Leaky Cauldron. He did need a place to stay while he got himself sorted, after all.

And so, with a forced smile on his face, the one that would be known to the world as Caelum Harry Miller jaunted down the street in a seemingly carefree manner, truly awed at the sight of a Diagon alley unmarred by the fear Voldemort had caused. Except- "Halt! You, child, stop, I said!" Harry paused and turned, blinking confusedly at the same man he had spoke to before. "Who are you, child?" The child in question blinked, slowly making to move away. "I know you are the same child as before, you are the only one that has entered or exited that side of Gringotts all day, despite your altered appearance. I am Arcturus Black, now answer me, child. Who are you?"

Harry blinked once more, instantly deciding to play dumb. "I'm sorry sir, you must be mistaken. I'm H-Caelum Miller." He flinched slightly as he nearly messed up this entire elaborate plot, too deep in thought. "I don't know what you are talking about, sir. What do you mean, 'from before?'" He worried his lip slightly, and furrowed a brow, as if this entire event was making the poor innocent child anxious.

Arcturus eyed him warily, taking a moment before speaking. "Miller, hm? Muggleborn, then? I could have sworn you looked like a Potter. No matter, where is your family?" His strident and uncaring tones caught Harry off guard before he remembered. This was the current lord Black, and one of few not prejudiced against halfbloods and muggleborns. Harry lowered his eyes slightly as he allowed the lie to flow smoothly from his lips. Perhaps he did indeed have a silver tongue. "I don't know any Potter's, sir. I'm an orphan, halfblood… I don't know any family, sir, except the others at the orphanage." At least, some of that was true. He looked up slightly before bowing, and attempting to move away. "Excuse me, Lord Black, I need to get my supplies for school." This response elicited a rose eyebrow from the lord.

"Know enough to know who I am, but not enough for proper manners? I could remedy that… for a price." Harry looked up at him once more, this time legitimately utterly confused, stopping his not-so-subtle attempt to get away.

"Sir?" maybe… he could get close to Sirius? He suppressed a shudder as he remembered what he had been told of Sirius' childhood.

"Come. My business is finished, we will attend to yours. First, your wardrobe, and then, a wand. That is, if you do not already have one?" Harry hesitated and then shook his head mutely as Arcturus swept off, obviously expecting for the child to follow. This was definitely not a part of the plan, Harry mused as he obeyed. May as well, it might even help him achieve his goals.

Presently, they found themselves at Twilfitt and Tattings. Harry looked around, noting exits, and how busy the upscale clothing shop seemed to be. The man ushered him into the store, and lightly shoved him at an attendant. "Full wardrobe for this one, I'm afraid he hit a growth spurt seemingly overnight. He stepped over to the swatches and pulled some, and with each Harry's eyes got bigger. He had not planned to get so many, nor such quality.

"Really sir, it's okay, I don't need-" Harry attempted to protest, mostly to save his money. Otherwise, he could care less.

"Nonsense. Save your money, child. You will need it. If I am to teach you some manners, you will dress as if you have them." The boy blinked owlishly as he was measured, flinching slightly as he moved, resulting in a poke from a needle.

"But, Lord Black, I don't need-"

"Oh, but you do. Stop being prideful, you have nothing to be prideful of, at current." Harry flinched at his words, and bowed his head. It was definitely not worth it. Besides, if Arcturus wanted to buy him clothes, it was fine by him, he decided. But did he have to get so much? Harry- Caelum, he supposed he was now called- sighed quietly, stepping down off the stool when allowed. "Make one for him to wear now, ship the rest." He gave the woman a piece of paper that seemed to have appeared from air, and sat, gesturing for Harry to do the same. "Now, we must wait." Harry sat, not knowing what else to do.

"Sir… What is the price you spoke of?" The young man pushed hair from his now scarless face, looking up intently at the one who seemed to have randomly taken him in.

"To live with me, of course, and do well in school so you will be of later use. I have a feeling about you, child." He looked down, giving a seemingly sinister smile, though his piercing blue eyes contained kindness.

"A feeling, sir?" Harry frowned. He surely did not still think it was him who demanded his newspaper earlier? Could he possibly mean?

"you've not fooled me, child. Caelum, you said?" He nodded once, gratefully jumping up to go change as one of his new robes was offered to him. Anything to escape that conversation.


End file.
